The Reluctant Mistress
by BabyKay47
Summary: Arthur isn't as noble as you think, and Guinevere can't resist a prince bent on seduction.
1. The Pursuit

**Part 1: The Pursuit**

**A**rthur couldn't remember when Guinevere changed from being the maidservant of his father's ward, to being the object of his desire. Perhaps it was when they were in Ealdor, and she had let her mouth get away from her. She had shown great bravery, not only in speaking up to him, but in her willingness to fight for those who needed her help. It was then that he first took note of her and saw that she wasn't a mere servant girl, but a woman with steel in her backbone, and great heart.

After that he began to notice her more around the castle. Whenever he spent time with Morgana she was always there. Whereas before, he had paid her no attention, recently he had started to include her in their activities. If they had lunch together, he pulled up a chair so that Guinevere might join them. If they played a game of chess, he would ask Guinevere for her advice on his next move. If they were in a heated argument he would ask Guinevere to act as arbiter, and always found her judgments to be fair and wise. She laughed whenever he teased her, and had even on occasion gotten in a few digs of her own. Even though he was constantly admonishing Merlin for similar insolent behavior, when she did it, he didn't mind. She was never disrespectful or unkind, but she saw the humor in situations, and was quick to point them out. She acted as kind of a touchstone, and for that he admired her.

She was very beautiful as well, but he didn't think that she realized just how much. She never batted her eyes coquettishly at admiring men, or fidgeted with her clothing to draw attention to exposed flesh or sumptuous curves. He didn't even think she owned a mirror. Her beauty was understated. Arthur had seen many other women most people might consider more beautiful, but no other woman captivated him the way she did. He loved the way her skin glowed in the light. It was a color he had never seen before, and it fascinated him. He wondered if it felt as smooth and soft as it looked. His hands itched to touch it, to run his fingers along her collarbone, up to her face, and through the dark curls at the nape of her neck as he leaned forward to touch his lips to hers. Now, whenever he looked at her he felt his heartbeat quicken and his loins tighten. He wanted her and he would have her.

As the prince, he had the right to take her whenever he wanted her. He knew that his father sometimes plucked the flower of some pretty little girl who washed his clothes or brought him meals. Arthur had never been one to force himself on the maidservants, though. And the women he had taken to bed who had wanted him to indulge them in rape fantasies had disgusted him. He wanted no part of that. He wanted her ready and willing. That might take some finesse on his part. At the moment Guinevere saw him as nothing more than a friend, he was sure. He would need a plan.

* * *

**G**uinevere was doing her best to avoid him. Whenever she was in a room with him, she could feel the heat of his gaze, and when she looked up, their eyes would lock. Blue eyes would stare at her with an intense, indecipherable expression. Whatever it meant, it made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

But avoiding Arthur in his own castle was easier said than done.

She still saw him almost every day in the hallway, as his chambers were near Morgana's. On one such occasion she was carrying a load of sheets in a basket when he stopped her to offer to help her. To say that she was surprised was an understatement.

She had just left Morgana's rooms, and he was standing right outside of the door, as if he were waiting for her. "Guinevere," he called out to her, "let me help you carry that."

Startled dark eyes met intent blue ones. She curtsied. "Thank you, milord, but I can manage on my own."

"I insist." With a disarming smile he grabbed the hamper full of linens from her. Guinevere could do nothing but nod her head in acquiescence, and return the smile.

"Now that you have relieved me of my burden," she said, teasingly, "I must ask how you wish me to return the favor."

Arthur lifted an eyebrow, and eyed her enigmatically. "I have no other purpose for helping you with your task other than to earn your good graces."

"Indeed, sire? Do you wish me to scrub your floors? Or iron your clothes?" she joked. "Although, don't you have Merlin for that purpose?"

"He has disappeared somewhere for the day as he is wont to do." Arthur let out an exaggerated sigh.

"I see. Then perhaps you need me to change your bedclothes. Have you made a mess of them again?"

"Again?" Arthur barked indignantly. "Did Merlin tell you? I swear, the moment I see him again I will wring his skinny neck!"

"I wasn't completely sure until just now. Merlin said nothing." It wasn't until that moment that he saw the devilish glint in her eye, and her mouth curled into a knowing smile.

Embarrassed, Arthur began to explain, "I was pissed, you see."

"'Pissed' being the operative word, I imagine." Her smile grew wider. With that they both burst into laughter.

When Guinevere laughed, her whole face lit up with youth and beauty. Arthur couldn't help admiring the way her dark eyes sparkled with mirth. Her luminescent skin was tinted rosy with a blush. And those full lips…curled into a smile…just begged to be kissed. Unconsciously, they drifted closer to each other until they were touching.

She had her hand on his forearm and he felt it burning through the cloth of his shirt. When she noticed that he was no longer laughing, not smiling even, but staring down at her hungrily, she abruptly withdrew her hand.

"Forgive me, milord. It was unbecoming of me to be so indecorous."

"There is nothing to forgive," he immediately replied. Sensing that she was about to withdraw from him to retreat behind the barrier that separated them due to their different stations in life, he quickly thought of a task for her to keep her in his presence. "I see there is no fooling you, Guinevere. I do have a request for you."

"It is my duty to obey you, sire."

"Good. Then I need you to dust the curtains in my room."

Guinevere stared up at him in shock at the mundane nature of his task. "Of course, sire, right away. If you could just take these," she motioned towards the basket, "down to the laundry rooms, I'll go get the feather duster."

Since Arthur had no idea where the laundry rooms were, as soon as she disappeared down the hall, he swiftly deposited the laundry basket on some other unsuspecting servant with orders to take them to the laundry rooms. Then he went to his room to await Guinevere's arrival.

When she came into the room she immediately went to the window and began untying the curtains. There were four windows in all, taller than she, and draped with bright red curtains.

From the shadows, he watched her in secret as she worked, hands steady, and arms strong as she waved the feather duster up and down the length of the curtains. No clump, no sly hair, not even a particle of dust escaped from her. She worked thoroughly and methodically from one window to the next. Then she grabbed the small stepladder that she had brought along with the feather duster and placed it next to the window. She climbed to the top to give her access to the upper half of the curtains since she couldn't reach them easily on her own. This gave him tantalizing glimpses of slim ankles, trim calves, and the perfect view of her tight, round backside. As she reached up, he could see the curve of her breast straining against the fabric of her bodice. By all that was holy, how could she make dusting curtains seem so sexy? He was rather glad that he had thought of the excuse to get her into his room.

Without realizing it, he let out a frustrated sigh, and Guinevere turned suddenly, to see where the sound was coming from. The motion caused her to lose her footing and she tried to grab onto a curtain to steady herself, but the strength of her grasp caused the curtain to rip, which further unbalanced her. It happened quickly, but in a moment Arthur was in front of her, waiting to catch her as she fell straight into his strong arms. She let out a muffled "Mmph!" and immediately tried to push away from him, but his arms encircled her tighter, pressing her front flush against him.

She felt so tiny and light in his arms, just as he imagined she would. Her chest was almost in his face, and he was sorely tempted to bury his face into her cleavage. When he chanced to look up into her eyes, her expression was thunderous. Reluctantly he loosened his grip on her to let her slowly slide down the length of him, her legs brushing against hard thighs.

When her feet touched the ground, she immediately took a step back, trying to distance herself from him. "I would appreciate it if you would conduct yourself in accordance with the manners of a prince!" she reprimanded.

"And what manners would those be?" He laughed. "I could order you to kiss me, but what would the fun in that be?"

"You are the prince of Albion, sole heir to all the lands you see, including Camelot. Why should you be wasting your time dallying with a mere servant?" Her voice rose slightly, but she didn't yell. She was far too prim and proper for that.

He was taken aback. He hadn't been expecting that angle. Anger perhaps. Indignant even. He loved the way she set her chin jauntily when she was angry. But not this. And he had to admit that there was a piece of him that did feel shame. He felt the gentle rebuke in her words like a slap to the face.

Why _was_ he so insistent on pursuing her? Perhaps it was because every other woman in the past he wanted fell at his feet, maidservant or noblewoman. But Guinevere seemed to expect more, that it was her right to expect that the man she gave herself to would marry her, and that was something he could not do.

"Forgive me. It is unfair of me to use my position to force you into doing trivial tasks. I had no reason for calling you up here, other than that I wanted to see you."

"What reason do you have for wanting to see _me_? Am I just another conquest for you? Must you have every servant girl in Camelot before you will be satisfied?" _Not every girl. Just you._ Arthur thought, but she continued, "Well, I will have you know that I will not be so easily wooed. Prince or not, I want nothing to do with you."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you are dangerous! You are sinfully handsome—" She blushed slightly when admitting that. "But not only that, you are kind, and funny, and one day you will become a great king. What is there not to love?" Her voice faltered a little. "I mean…anyone would be lucky to have you," she let out quickly. "I'm not saying that I love you!" She paused, then she looked him straight in the eye. "But I cannot be your queen, and I do not wish to become your mistress."

She always surprised him with her bluntness. He hadn't even realized that that was what he wanted. He hadn't thought beyond trying to get her to bed, but now that she had said it, he wanted more. He did want more than just one night with her. And what would the harm in that be? "There would be no shame in becoming my mistress. I could give you jewels, and a home, and you would never have to work for Morgana again."

"Have you ever offered any of your other female companions as much?"

"Well, no. But I'm making an exception for you."

"And why would you do that?"

"You must know that I care about you. Not only are you beautiful, but you are intelligent, and I respect you. If I cannot sweep you off your feet with my charms, then perhaps I can entice you monetarily."

Guinevere laughed out loud with incredulity. "This is how you show me you respect me? Do you think I could be so easily bought? And what happens when you become bored with me? Do I get to keep my house and my jewels? Or would I be forced out onto the street with nothing—not even my good name?"

"I will always take care of you."

"I'd rather not take the risk. Although I do feel quite flattered at your attentions, majesty," she bit out angrily. "I must humbly refuse. And if there's nothing else you wish to say to me, then I'd like to replace this curtain."

Feeling that the damage had been done, Arthur shook his head. "No, there's nothing else."

"Very well then, sire." Then she turned on her heel and fled the room like a gazelle with a lion after it, leaving Arthur to wonder how he could have been so clumsy as to let the situation get so out of control.

He hadn't meant to put things quite that way. He had basically behaved like a bumbling buffoon. He had meant to gallantly sweep her off her feet, and seduce her with his kisses. But Guinevere had managed to get right to the heart of the matter. Even if she did have feelings for him, which he was beginning to think was true, he would have everything to gain, but she would only have everything to lose. He didn't know her very well, but he did know that to her honor meant everything. If she were to become his mistress, she would not be able to respect herself. And then she would lose her respect for him, too, for being the reason for her situation. If he was going to get her to become his mistress he would have to find a way for her to do it where she could maintain her honor and integrity as well.

She had made her position on the matter abundantly clear. She would rather have nothing more to do with him. Now she would be wary of him, and he would have to give her some space. But despite the setback, he determined more than ever to make her his.

* * *

**A/N: **So here it is, my first attempt at frolicking in the world of Merlin. I have to admit that I haven't been following Merlin very carefully, so I'm sure some of my facts are wrong. I've only seen bits and pieces here and there, and intentionally tried to avoid it at first because I thought it looked silly. But my boyfriend insisted on watching it every week, and at some point last season I discovered Arthur and Gwen and I totally love the chemistry between the two actors. I still think the story is poorly written, the two fell in love way too quickly, and Arthur acts like an asshole most of the time, but I am a chemistry whore, and I love the angst. I don't have much optimism that the show will give me anything good other than lots of pretty to look at, but it has inspired my imagination.

This story will have four parts. It is completely unrelated to the show other than a few plot points I picked up, like Guinevere standing up to Arthur in "Moment of Truth". And is rated M for a reason. Things get heated up in the next chapter. Please enjoy.


	2. The Bargain

**Part 2: The Bargain**

**I**t was the perfect opportunity. When his guards came to him to sign the warrant for her father's arrest, he knew he had just the incentive he needed to get her to submit to him. He felt guilty about arresting the man, but he went along to make sure that no undue force was used against him. He knew that her anger would be fierce, but he thought that given time he could logically reason with her.

He was waiting for her when she burst into his chambers.

"What is the meaning of this? Why did you arrest my father?"

"He was caught aiding and abetting a child who has magic. As you must be aware, it is a crime punishable by death."

"But it makes no sense! If my father hadn't helped, that child would have been the one caught and arrested for something he has no control over! He cannot help what he is, any more than you or I can!"

"What your father did was very noble indeed," Arthur agreed, "but he knew the risks and he must deal with the consequences."

"There must be something you can do," she pleaded.

"As a matter of fact, it is within my power to have your father released, but I want something from you in return."

"And what might that be?" she asked cautiously.

"Come to bed with me and I'll have the king pardon your father."

She hadn't been expecting that. Or had she? "You want me to give you my virtue—the only thing I have of worth to give my husband?"

"For your father, Gwen. Don't think of it as a sacrifice. You will be doing your duty as a daughter."

"But I know that you feel that my father's imprisonment is completely unjust! That boy was only a child, whether he had magic or not. Anyone would have helped him, including you!"

"I agree that your father should not be in prison, and if I were king, he would not be."

"Then why won't you do what is right and help me?"

"Because there's something that I want and I would do anything to get it." He looked at her pointedly, leaving no room for doubt about his meaning.

"How can I trust you? I thought you were my friend, or at least someone I could count on. But a friend would never ask this of me."

"I will go to the king and tell him that your father was falsely accused. He will believe my word over that of a mere commoner. But as for being your friend…you must know that I care for you a great deal. And even though you'd be giving me 'the only thing you have of worth' as you put it, I would cherish and honor it as a gift, giving it the respect it deserves. You will feel only pleasure in my bed. Let me prove it to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll show you what it can be like. Come here, Guinevere." She didn't move towards him, but she didn't move away either. He took it as a sign to move closer to her. She still seemed to be upset. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly with every breath. He leaned down and drew her face towards his with his hands. When their lips were but a hairsbreadth away he paused. "Look at me, Gwen." She couldn't help but look up to meet his eyes and when she did he touched his lips to hers. His were surprisingly soft and dry, but warm. She closed her eyes as the kiss deepened and he insistently pressed his tongue against her lips to open her mouth. He sucked on her full bottom lip, rubbing his tongue along it teasingly. Then he plunged his tongue into her mouth in imitation of the sexual ritual he wished to perform with her later. She felt her knees go weak, and one arm fell away from her face to wrap around her waist as he slowly tilted her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck for support, giving in to the security of his arms and the sensations coursing through her body. He was gently stroking her back, sending shivers up her spine.

When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, he gazed down into eyes half-lidded with passion. His voice was nothing more than a husky whisper. "If you can tell me that that kiss didn't mean anything to you, that you didn't feel anything…then I will go to my father immediately and have your father released."

Gwen's eyes grew round as she took in the meaning of his words. This was her moment of reckoning. Should tell the truth and give in to her feelings? Looking up at Arthur, who was still tenderly cupping her face, she knew that he could see plainly in her face that she was not unaffected by his kiss. She shook her head. "I cannot tell a lie."

"Then you will do it?"

Guinevere swallowed back the lump in her throat, then nodded. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" he asked, straightening until they were both standing facing each other once again.

"We keep this a secret."

Triumph was with his grasp, so what was one little concession? He immediately agreed. "Done."

Guinevere looked up at him uncertainly. "And when will you expect me to fulfill my end of the bargain?"

"I have some work to do getting your father released. Then I will make arrangements for us to meet in secret."

Guinevere sighed in relief. Whether it was because she had been able to convince Arthur to release her father, or from the reprieve she was given for upholding her end of their agreement, she wasn't sure. "Thank you, sire." Then she left, leaving Arthur to pleasurably contemplate the night when she would become his completely.

* * *

**G**uinevere paused outside of the cabin, her hand falling still as she reached for the doorknob. Her heartbeat was racing with fear and excitement. When she had finally been able to bring her father home again, she had been filled with elation. She was extremely grateful to Arthur for what he had done. He could have made her lie with him first before releasing her father, but as a show of faith he hadn't. She believed in her heart that he would have done it whether she had agreed to his proposal or not. She knew that she could turn around and return to the castle and he would never approach her again. He was a proud man, and if she rejected him, he would never forgive her. But she didn't think that she could bear the thought of him hating her. Even though he could be infuriatingly arrogant, rude, and self-entitled, she knew that underneath he was kind and good-hearted. She knew that one day he would become the kind of king of legends. A king that she would be proud to serve.

And if she was honest with herself, she did want him. She thought about the way he had held her in his arms and kissed her all the time. He had awakened within her a primal need…for what, she wasn't exactly sure of, but she knew deep in the quivering heat between her thighs that he could give it to her.

Letting out a deep breath she didn't even realize she had been holding inside, she finally placed her hand on the doorknob, and opened the door. She was startled to find a table had been set with candles, dishes, a bottle of wine, and a vase of flowers. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, and she could smell the enticing scent of a meal being kept warm on the stones nearby the fire.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

When she turned around there he was leaning against the wall and looking very pleased, and perhaps a bit relieved.

"I gave you my word, milord."

"Please, call me Arthur. After what's going to happen between the two of us," he began in a husky voice, "there's no need for formalities." Her eyes widened at the allusion to rest of the evening, and trying to get her to relax he told her, "Don't worry, I'm not going to jump your bones this second."

"Then what are you going to do, milord—Arthur?"

"I intend on enjoying a meal with a beautiful woman, and letting things progress naturally." He pulled out a chair for her, indicating to her that she should sit down. Then he began to pour wine into the glasses on the table. When he was finished he sat down across from her and raised his glass for a toast. "To a night that neither one of us will ever forget." They clinked glasses, and then he took a sip, while Guinevere downed hers. Arthur smiled knowingly. He hoped that a couple of glasses might make her feel more relaxed, but he would stop her before she drank too much.

While she was still drinking wine Arthur went about preparing dinner. There wasn't much to do, as it had all been prepared in the palace kitchens, but he also wanted to give her some time get a handle on her emotions. He knew that she was nervous. Even he felt a little nervous with anticipation. He wanted to make this night perfect for her. In order to do that he had to get her to stop thinking about what was going to happen, and just be in the moment with him.

When he was finished preparing the meal, he set a plate in front of Guinevere and another in front of the seat next to her. He poured more wine into each of their glasses. "Please dig in," he told her after taking a sip of wine.

But Guinevere didn't touch anything. "I need to thank you for what you did."

Arthur shook his head. "There's no need to thank me. We both know there's another way I'd like you to show your appreciation."

Guinevere's cheeks turned pink. "Nevertheless, I thought I ought to say it anyway. You were true to your word, and so I must be true to mine."

"Is that the only reason you're here?"

His eyes caught hers, and again she realized that she would not be able to lie to him, even if she wanted to. But she didn't want to deny her feelings any longer. "No, Arthur. That's not the only reason I'm here."

"Then why are you here?" he implored, fervently.

"Because I think about you all the time," she admitted. "I find myself fantasizing about kissing you—" Arthur silenced her words with a heated kiss. He pressed his lips against hers forcefully, giving in to the pent up frustration he had been feeling for weeks. His mouth bruised hers, but she welcomed the kiss, parting her lips and effectively gentling him. He plunged his tongue into her mouth to meet hers, caressing and stroking it tenderly. He shoved his hands into her thick curls and tugged gently down forcing her head up for easier access. She had her hands pressed against his chest where she could feel his heart beating madly. The steady staccato drumming rhythm mirrored her own.

Suddenly Arthur pulled away, his eyes closed, breathing hard. He took in a few deep breaths before he chanced to look at Guinevere again. She looked as if she had been thoroughly ravished and he'd only just gotten started! Her hair was in disarray, her cheeks were pink and her eyes were cloudy with passion. He'd have to slow down or he'd take her roughly, and he wanted it to be good for her. So he sat back and took another sip of his wine so that he could get control of himself. He too his time looking at her, watching the way her breasts rose and fell with every breath, and staring her deep in the eyes. They sat there staring at each other building up anticipation. When Arthur finally stood up, Guinevere did too, and when he offered his hand to her, she took it. He brought the work-roughened hand to his lips and kissed the top, then turned it over and kissed her sensitive wrist, sending sparks of pleasure straight to her groin. Then he led her to the bed.

* * *

**W**hen it was over, they stayed entwined for a few moments as they both caught their breaths. Then he withdrew and settled on the bed next to her staring at the ceiling as stars circled about his head. When his vision began to clear he turned to look at Guinevere, but she was turned away from him. He was entranced by her silhouette—the curve of her hip, the ridges of her ribcage, and the shadow of her nape. But they were shaking, and he could hear the muffled sound of weeping. He was immediately filled with concern and pressed a hand against her shoulder to turn her to face him. He saw tears sliding down her cheekbones like raindrops down a windowpane.

"Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head and quickly tried to wipe away the evidence of her crying. "No. It wasn't painful at all, really. It was wonderful." She smiled weakly.

"Then what's wrong?" he asked, confused. His hand cupped her face and gently thumbed away a stray tear.

"I was just thinking…about the silly dreams of a young girl." Her voice caught in her throat.

"What dreams?"

"Of falling in love, getting married, and having children. That sort of thing. It's funny how life turns out, isn't it?"

"Are you sorry that I've taken those things away from you?"

"I knew what I was getting into when I walked through that door." She pulled away and sat up on the edge of the bed with her feet dangling, looking at her hands clasped together in her lap. "But I never imagined I'd become a mistress. I've given up everything I believed in, and if anyone ever found out, I'd never be able to hold my head up. It's all well and good for you. You are the prince. But I am nothing. Less than nothing now."

Arthur sat up next to her, leaning on one arm, legs sprawled out behind her back. "Don't say those things," he chided, gently grasping her chin and forcing her to look at him. "No matter what you think you may have given up, you are not worthless." He leaned in to kiss her, then pulled her down on top of him, trying to make her forget her sadness with his mouth and his hands. They had the rest of the night ahead of them and he intended to make the most of it.

* * *

**A/N: **There are about 1,000 extra words of smutty goodness, but alas I cannot post it here. Please send a PM if you would like to read the extended version.


	3. The Engagement

**Part 3: The Engagement**

**T**heir one night in the cottage turned into many. He would leave a note for her in her home; _Meet me at the cottage tonight._ It was always after the sun went down and the stars came out to cloak the two lovers' secret in their iridescent beauty. Sometimes it was quick and fierce…Arthur didn't have the time, so he stole it. He didn't bother to undress her either, but threw her skirts over her head and took her roughly against the wall, or on the table. He would come almost instantly, but he always made sure to return the favor. Other times it was slow and languorous…Guinevere would bring him to the edge with her hands and her mouth, and then she'd pull away, teasing him pleasurably. It was gentle torture.

But this night was different. No matter what Arthur did, Guinevere would not look him in the eye. When he kissed her mouth, she turned her head away. When he cupped her breast, she pushed his hand down to her stomach. She didn't resist him, but she didn't respond to him the way she normally did either. When he entered her she covered her face with her hands and didn't make a sound.

When it was over, she turned on her side facing away from him. He tried to stroke her arm tenderly, but then she sat up, and began pulling the clothes that had been scattered on the bed to her.

"What is the matter, Gwen?" Arthur asked, completely thrown. "You've been in my bed hundreds of times and you've never shied away before." Arthur had always delighted in how open and ready she'd be for him. He knew that he was taking advantage of her feelings for him. He knew that her affections ran deeper than a mere dalliance. And deep down he knew he felt the same way. But there was nothing to be done. He never even allowed himself to think about the possibility that they could be together as man and wife.

When she continued to put on her clothes without responding, he raised his voice. "Guinevere, if it's something that I've done, I have the right to know."

That made her pause. Then she turned around to look at him, and he could see the unshed tears in her eyes. "You've never been engaged to another woman before."

With those words the dream-like spell that had been cast on their seductive hideaway was broken. Arthur sat up angrily. "What would you have me do? I am the prince, and as such I have specific obligations. It is my responsibility to carry on the royal line and sire children. My father has decreed it!"

The tears that Guinevere had been trying to fight began to fall unbidden down her cheeks. "We both knew this day was coming. We tried not to think about it, but in wishing we were still unable to quell the burgeoning tide. Your future wife will not like the idea of you sharing your bed with another. And even I—who am nothing but a lowly servant—do not like the idea much better. This is goodbye, Arthur."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Morgana has given her permission for me to become lady in waiting to a noblewoman in a neighboring kingdom."

"You're leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'm sorry, Arthur, but I'm afraid this is the only way."

"You can't mean this—"

"I cannot bear the thought of you married to another, making her your queen, and giving her your children. It would break my heart."

"So leaving is your only solution? Doesn't that hurt just as much?"

"Of course it hurts me. I _love _you!" she cried out.

The admittance of such feeling astonished him. He felt both pleased and guilty about it. He liked knowing that her feelings were so strong, but he knew what it cost her to say them out loud. He cupped her face in his hand, willing her to look up at him. When she finally did he said, "Stay. We will make this work."

Guinevere broke away from his embrace and stood up. "You can be so selfish sometimes!" She began to pace. "It will not work. Not as long as you are getting married to someone else. What we have now only works because it is secret. But don't you think your wife would notice you sneaking off in the middle of the night? I may have agreed to become your mistress, but I will not do that to another woman. My decision has been made. I will not let you change my mind."

"I could go to the king and have him order you to stay." It was an empty threat.

"What would you tell him? That he cannot let me leave because I've become your designated bed warmer?"

"You are much more than that to me, Gwen, and you know it!"

"Then your father would be glad to be rid of me if he knew that you were attached to a common servant."

"I do not care what my father may think."

Guinevere paused, and walked back to the bed. She raised her hand to stroke his hair. "Then care about what I think. You are going to be a great king. But you cannot be king if you let me come between you and your father. I could not live with myself, and you would grow to resent me."

Arthur grabbed her hand and nuzzled his face in her palm. "But how can I become great without you by my side? I need you Guinevere. You make me a better man." He kissed her palm and gently tugged on her wrist to pull her back down to the bed. Their mouths met hungrily, devouring each other with the force of their desire.

This time when he entered her she didn't resist. She didn't want to resist. She wanted to savor the moment and so she held him tightly, sheathing him, taking him inside her so deeply that they became one. She welcomed his seed as he spilled himself inside her, pouring all of his feeling—the need, the want, the desperation—and collapsed on top of her, spent. She held him close and stroked his back, coaxing him into a deep tranquil sleep.

Guinevere watched the gentle rise and fall of Arthur's chest as he slept. She memorized every line and shadow of his face, knowing that it would be the last time that she ever saw him. Then she stole one last kiss from slumbering lips and crept out into the night. It was only after she returned to her lonely little home that she let the tears fall_._

* * *

**A**rthur's hand searched for warm flesh to caress, but only encountered cold sheets. The stark difference in temperature startled him into immediate alertness. Gwen never let the fire go out. It was then that his sleep-clouded mind finally realized that the reason for his discomfiture was because Gwen was gone.

Fear drove him to hurriedly put on his pants and run out of the cabin. Day was breaking and bathed the forest in its orange glow. But Arthur didn't notice the beauty of the clear cold morning. The only thing he could think about was getting to Gwen before she could get away. When he reached her home he found it abandoned and empty. In that moment Arthur felt an agony that was stronger than anything he had ever felt before, not even in battle. And he realized that losing Guinevere was worse than losing a limb. He could survive without a hand or a foot, but he could not survive without a heart, and Guinevere had captured his completely.

After a moment of panic, he let years of training as a soldier take over. This was a battle of the heart and if he gave into despair he would lose. First he would have to find out where she went. To do that he immediately set off to see Morgana.

She was still sleeping and her new maidservant opened the door. It felt very strange to knock on her door and not see Guinevere's face answer it.

"My lady is sleeping, sire. Shall I tell her you stopped by?"

"No need," he said calmly sidestepping past her. "Morgana! I need to speak to you."

Morgana opened the door to her bedchamber, and strode into the receiving room as she put on her robe. "What do you want at this time in the morning, Arthur?"

"Where is she?"

"Where is who?"

"Guinevere!"

"She asked to be released from her service to me, so I let her."

"Where is she going?"

"To serve Lady Margaret of Mercia—"

"Then she will have taken the north road!" Without another word he rushed out of the room and ran to the stables.

He didn't want to waste time waiting for a stable hand to saddle his horse, so he merely grabbed a harness for the horse's mouth and did without the saddle. Then he set off for the northern road. She couldn't be more than an hour or two ahead of him and was most likely riding with a caravan which moved more slowly, but was safer for a young woman traveling alone. He was just about to exit the city through the gates when he was stopped by a regiment of guards.

"The king demands your presence in the great hall."

"I don't have time for this! Tell him I will see him when I return."

"The king has given us leave to use force if necessary."

Arthur swore loudly. He either had to submit and lose his chance at catching up to Guinevere, or fight with his men. He wished to do neither, but he really had no choice but to go with the guards.

"Is it true what Morgana has said?" the king demanded as soon as Arthur entered the hall. "That you have been having an affair with her maid and were about to run off with her?"

Anger flared up within him over Morgana's betrayal. He thought that he could trust her, but he turned out to be wrong. "Yes, sire," he admitted through gritted teeth, not bothering to clarify.

"You are a foolish boy! Thank goodness Morgana had the presence of mind to warn me before you went off and ruined not only your life, but my alliance with Olaf."

"Of course my life's happiness means nothing to you as long as _your_ alliance is safe," Arthur retorted bitterly. "What does it matter that I know nothing of the lady Vivienne, and could care nothing for her, as long as _you_ are satisfied?"

"I know that it must be difficult for you, but you may in time learn to care for her," Uther replied, not without sympathy.

"The way that you loved my mother?"

"Yes. Ours was a marriage of convenience that grew to great love. Your marriage can be the same."

"Not when I love another."

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur! Everyone knows that you have your fun with the maids whenever you feel the itch. But you don't fall in love with them. And you certainly don't marry them!"

"I am the crown prince of Camelot and I should be able to marry whomever I like!"

"It is _because _you are the crown prince that you cannot."

"And what will you do if I do not acquiesce to your command?"

"I will disown you and you will be banished. Think about it, Arthur. Think about what you would be giving up. A kingdom, the nobility of your knighthood, and all the luxury and security that goes with it. Do you really want to sacrifice that all for a mere servant?"

"She isn't just a servant to me."

Ignoring his statement, Uther continued, "And how can you be certain that she returns your affections? Perhaps she was only after your wealth."

"She is not like that, father! In fact she left me because she didn't want to continue to be my mistress as long as I had a wife. She is honest and loyal and kind and that's why I love her." Arthur surprised himself with his own words. They were declarations of love that he'd never told her. He should have told her. And he would regret it for the rest of his life.

"At least she had the sense to leave you since you insist on being so stubborn."

"Why must you be so hardhearted? If I had a son I would not force him to marry against his will."

"This is about more than just your feelings, son. If that were the case princes would marry their maids all the time. But two kingdoms are at stake here. An alliance with Olaf would guarantee our security against Cenred. And her dowry would refill our coffers, which have been low ever since the drought. Stop being selfish, Arthur, and be the son who will one day take my place as king."

Arthur did not want to admit that his father's words were true. He could not say anything so he stood rooted to the spot, jaw clenched in resentment. He thought of Gwen and how her words had been essentially the same—that it was his duty to marry as the king demanded, and therefore sentence himself to a life without love.

He thought of Gwen's smile and the way her hair always smelled of wildflowers, and how she would laugh at him when he tickled her, and the way her voice would sound husky after waking up after a long night of lovemaking. And he knew that he would never see or smell or hear those things again. And he had no one else to blame but himself. If he hadn't pursued her, if he hadn't blackmailed her into sharing his bed…he would never have known real happiness. He would never have known what it felt like to be challenged and yet sustained. He would never have known that he could be loved for who he was without the threat of disappointment or judgment. And he would never have known such passion and fulfillment as he felt whenever he had lain with her. For all the pain that he felt, he treasured the opportunity to know her that he had been given.

"What will you do, Arthur?" the king asked, interrupting his thoughts.

His decision already made, he turned on his heel and left the great hall. Now he would have to live with it.

* * *

**A/N: **So originally I was going to have a "happy" ending, but as I was writing this part I realized I couldn't show the development of Arthur's desire for Guinevere changing to something deep enough where he would want to give up his crown in just four parts. So this is what you get. There is one more part coming.

Also, I was surprised at how much interest there was for the smutty version of the last bit. I was expecting to email it to one or two people, but I guess a lot of you like "teh sex" LOL Anyway, I ended up putting it up on livejournal. I've added a link to my profile so people can see it without having to wait for an email from me. I hope you enjoy!


	4. The Coronation

**Part 4: The Coronation**

Uther Pendragon had been dead for seven days, and now it was time to bury him and crown Arthur as king. It was merely a formality, as Arthur had been de facto ruler of Camelot for months during his father's lengthy illness.

The week had given nobility and dignitaries from all of the neighboring kingdoms the chance to make their way to the funeral, including the Lady Margaret of Kent and her entire household. It was on that occasion that Guinevere was able to lay eyes on Arthur again for the first time in nine years. She watched him from her place at her lady's side as Merlin, the First Royal Wizard, placed the crown upon Arthur's blond head.

Guinevere felt incredibly proud to see him in all his majestic glory. He had become the kind of king that she had always known he would. Since Uther became ill, he had been able to unite the kingdoms of Albion and restore the use of magic. Despite being relatively young, he had been able to instill confidence in his people and was renowned as a fair and just ruler. He had also established an order of knights made up of his most trusted comrades, who guided and counseled him, and who he was able to count on to help him govern his vast and ever growing populace.

She watched as his knights led the procession in the swearing of fealty. And then it was the nobles' turn to welcome their new king. Lady Margaret, of course, was also to be presented to the king and Guinevere with her. With every step that brought her closer, apprehension filled her as well as eagerness. She dreaded the thought of what he might do or say, but wanted nothing more than to meet with him once again.

"Your majesty," said the royal announcer, "may I present to you the Lady Margaret Belhaven, Countess of Kent?"

They bowed deeply, Guinevere's curly tresses hiding her face. She dared not look up, but when she did, Arthur was holding his hand out to be kissed. He hadn't even noticed her! Disappointment filled her, turning her stomach into a ball of lead. She took his gloved fingers into her own and kissed them, whispering, "Your majesty." Suddenly she felt them stiffen, and glanced up to find his blue eyes wide with surprise. He snatched his hand away as if he had accidently set it on a hot stove, and then curtly dismissed her and her lady away. If it weren't for his somewhat stony expression, she would have believed that she had imagined the whole encounter.

"That was rather rude," the lady Margaret whispered to Guinevere as they returned to their place in the crowd.

"He was probably just impatient. He has a lot of people to meet and he wants to get through the line as quickly as possible. Try not to take it personally, mistress." But she knew his reaction had been very personal. And she had come away from the encounter feeling lowlier than a servant. She felt like a tiny insect to be grounded underneath the heel of one's boot. She should have expected such a response, but she couldn't help but hope for something different.

For the rest of the interminable procession Guinevere kept her head down, struggling to keep the tears that welled up in her eyes from falling. When at last it was over they returned to her mistress' chambers, and after helping the lady get ready for an afternoon nap before the evening's feast, she was at last able to seek the privacy of her own little room and cry her eyes out. She fell into an exhausted sleep on her hard little cot, but was awakened abruptly by a knocking on her door. Wiping the dried tears from her face, she opened the door to find Merlin standing before her. He was no longer adorned in his ceremonial wizard robes, but instead was dressed in a simple tunic with a bandana around his throat. He looked just the same as she remembered him. It was as if mere days had passed rather than years. His expression, though, was one of anger. "You didn't say goodbye," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

"I'm sorry," she replied, lamely. "I didn't have time." She lowered her eyes so as not to see the contempt in his eyes only to find herself warmly embraced.

"I've missed you, Gwen!" he exclaimed, hugging her tightly. And then she looked up and they both smiled.

"Look at you!" She eyed him up and down meaningfully. "You're now a Royal Wizard of the highest sort."

"I know. Can you believe it?" Merlin grinned.

"I always knew there was something different about you, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Imagine all those years under Uther's nose, and he never had any idea."

"It was a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"I can only imagine. So what brings you here?"

Merlin held up a piece of parchment. "I have a message from Arthur."

Guinevere's smile froze on her face. "The king? Why would he have a message for me?"

"It's not my place to say. Just read it." He placed the letter in her hand, and then hugged her again, taking his leave.

Guinevere stood rooted to the middle of the floor holding the piece of parchment as if it were a precious stone. It weighed heavily on her heart. After his less than cordial reaction to seeing her earlier, she was afraid of what it might say. But if it were really so terrible, would he have sent Merlin to deliver it? If he were banishing her from the castle wouldn't he have sent armed guards? Unable to take the suspense any longer she broke the seal. It was Arthur's personal seal from the ring he wore, rather than an official seal.

_Meet me at the cottage tomorrow night._

Instant flames of anger engulfed her. Of all the insufferable, pigheaded, selfish things to write! There was no greeting. No _Dearest Guinevere, _or even a simple _Gwen._ Just a command as if nine years hadn't passed. As if he hadn't gotten married, and she…she would rather not think about that.

She was of a mind not to go. What could they possibly have to say to each other after all this time? And especially after Arthur had completely dismissed her earlier as if she were nothing to him. However, what else could she expect? It was she who had left like a thief in the middle of the night. And she had surprised him by showing up at the coronation without as much as a by your leave. If the roles had been reversed, and he had come to her unexpectedly, she probably would have reacted the same way. So despite all of her misgivings, if she was honest she really did want to see him again.

That evening at the banquet she watched him and felt his eyes wander over to her table several times as if he were searching for something…or someone. But their eyes never met. She was perhaps too far away. But she took the opportunity to try to gage his mood. He seemed to be at ease. Not like a panther about to pounce on its prey, which is what she felt like. It gave her little comfort, though.

That night she couldn't sleep, but instead paced her tiny quarters until her candle died out, and then forced herself to lie prostrate in her bed as the darkness slowly changed to a dull gray.

The next morning her kind mistress took pity on her and bade her to take the day off to explore Camelot since she believed that she had never been there before. Guinevere had no desire to see any of the people she had known for fear that unlike Merlin they would not be as forgiving of her abrupt departure nine years ago. And so instead she spent the day in the gardens. She found a spade and some clippers in the shed and went about weeding and cutting back dead leaves, letting the light exertion of her task reinvigorate her senses, and the sweet smell of the flowers and soil soothe ragged nerves. She had always loved the gardens at Camelot. She worked until just before the sun went down and returned to her quarters sweaty, but calmer from weariness to take a quick bath. Then once the stars came out, she donned her hooded cape and set out for the secret hideaway.

As soon as she opened the door she saw him standing there in front of the fire. He turned immediately when he heard her enter. He started at her unblinkingly, blue eyes drinking in her face as if she were water and he was a dying man. She stared back at him taking in the details she hadn't noticed before. He looked just as handsome as ever, but there were more lines and creases on his forehead and around his eyes, and his hair was just a little bit thinner near his temples. She could only hope that her face had fared as well in his eyes. She knew that her hips had become a bit wider and her hair was sprinkled with salt and pepper, but other than that, she felt that she had aged quite well. But who could know what Arthur thought? His face remained coolly distant and she felt her confidence waiver.

Then he spoke. "You can imagine my surprise at seeing you again after all these years. I had no reason to believe that I would ever see you again, but then there you were…"

"I'm sorry, milord. I didn't mean my presence to cause you any…discomfort." She didn't know what else to say.

"Discomfort?" Arthur let out disbelievingly. Some emotion—anger perhaps, marred the smoothness of his forehead, but then it quickly disappeared. "It is I who must apologize. I'm afraid I was somewhat rude to you and the Lady Margaret."

"Apologize? There is no need, sire!"

"I'm afraid there is…for much more than just yesterday. But I'd like to start at the beginning. Please have a seat." He gestured for her to take a seat at the table and so she did, confusion mixed with relief overtaking her emotions.

Arthur continued to stand, but looked at her solemnly. Then when he began to speak, the shock of his words caused her to tremble.

"I love you, Guinevere. I've always loved you and I'm sorry for never telling you sooner. I've thought about you every day for the past nine years, but I knew that you left for my sake, and I didn't want your sacrifice to be for naught." Then he knelt in front of her and grasped a shaking hand to bring it to his lips.

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"I'm saying I want to do what I should have done long ago. Seeing you again has made everything crystal clear to me. I love you and I want to be with you—"

"But it's been nine years. How can you be sure?"

"I'm as sure now as I was when I first proposed our bargain."

"So that is what you want?" Guinevere tried to withdraw her hand from his, but he refused to let her go. "You want to continue our prior arrangement?"

"No!" Arthur shook his head emphatically. "That's not what I meant at all."

"Then please explain this to me because I don't understand at all. I'm just a servant and you are a _king_."

"But you are not just a servant to me. And soon you'll be more than that to everyone."

"How?"

"I'm going to make you a countess in your own right. Ever since the war ended I've been rewarding my lost loyal subjects with titles and lands regardless of their former status." Guinevere had heard news of this before. Some of the Knights of the Round Table, including Lancelot, were not of noble blood. But that didn't seem to matter to the king. Blood, as everyone had come to realize, did not prove nobility. Morgana had shown that.

Guinevere shook her head in disbelief. "But I have done nothing to deserve such an honor."

Arthur disagreed. "You can't know what a comfort it's been to me knowing that you were safe and out of harm's way all this time. I'm grateful that you left when you did because I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you because of me. And I know that if you were here, you wouldn't have wanted to sit idly by while I fought and I would have had to worry about you getting yourself into danger for my sake. For that sacrifice alone you deserve all that and more."

"But that's preposterous! No one would ever accept a mere servant as a noble."

"They will accept you as more than a noble," he began meaningfully. "I plan to woo you the way that you deserve. I will have a courtier teach you the ways of court and then after an appropriate courtship has taken place, I'm going to marry you and make you my queen the way I should have all those years ago."

Guinevere was completely stunned. She couldn't believe what her ears just heard, but there he was staring at her earnestly with the clearest blue eyes she had ever seen, and a spark of hope ignited inside her. She had never in all her wildest imaginings dreamed that the next time that she met Arthur he would propose to her. But it seemed as if he had thought it through. He wanted to make her a countess and teach her how to conduct herself in the ways of the court, which was a daunting task. Even if she had wanted to be queen, which she did not, she felt that it was a big responsibility, one that she could not take on lightly and it was as if Arthur had foreseen her reservations and thought of a way for her to get over them. His thoughtfulness touched her heart. But there was still a big problem—a gaping hole like a vast canyon in the middle of his plans.

"What about your daughter?" she brought up quietly.

Arthur's entire expression seemed to soften at the mention of his six year old daughter. Guinevere knew that just like her father, the little girl's mother had died in childbirth. "She is even more of a reason for you to become my wife. She is still young and needs a mother. I love her more than I can say, but there are times when I feel completely at a loss with how to deal with her. When I was a boy and I returned from expedition with a minor injury, my father would tell me to rub some dirt on the wound and walk it off. It was to make me strong and tough. But I'm not sure that's the appropriate reaction for a girl. She needs a woman's touch, and I fear my hand is much too rough and calloused."

Guinevere looked down at the hand holding her own and caressed the war-roughened palm with her thumb. "Those are all good reasons for you to choose another wife," she began softly, in almost a whisper. "But surely you hope to give your daughter brothers or sisters to play with?"

"That would be my heart's greatest wish. A son with your heart. Or perhaps a daughter with your sensibleness." Arthur grinned.

"But don't you need a son to carry on your name and inherit your crown?"

"Well, yes, of course—"

"There you see!" she let out in a half-strangled cry. "That is the reason I can't be your wife!"

"I don't see," Arthur replied, nonplussed. "Please tell me."

"I can't have children," she blurted out.

"You can't know that—"

Guinevere cut him off. "I was pregnant once. I carried him almost fully to term, but then there were complications…and I lost him. The midwife told me that I was too damaged and I would probably never conceive again. But that didn't stop me from trying. We tried…Lancelot and I," she said pointedly, "but nothing ever happened."

"Are you," Arthur swallowed audibly, "married to Lancelot?"

"No." He looked visibly relieved. "We were never married."

Arthur wrapped his arms around Guinevere, and kissed her forehead as he held her close. "I can only imagine you went through. The thought of anything happening to take Meagan away from me scares me to the core. I am so sorry for your loss. But it makes no difference to me whether you can bear my children or not. I love you. I always have. And I want to marry you. Please say that you will be my wife."

Being in his arms again made her feel incredibly safe and warm. He was telling her all the things that she had longed to hear, and everything he said made sense. They loved each other. He was the king that she always knew he had inside him to be. They had the world at their feet and after everything that they had been through, didn't they deserve some happiness? What other answer could she possibly give him?

* * *

**A/N: **So my first Arthur/Gwen fic is finished. Yay! Please let me know what you think and thanks for all of the reviews. Also, just a reminder, the full version of part 2 can be found on my livejournal page: BabyKay47.

P.S. I made an Arthur/Gwen music video based on Romeo and Juliet. I have the crappiest vid-making software, but inspiration struck me :) Please check it out on Youtube: BabyKay47. Links to both my livejournal and youtube channel are on my profile page.


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